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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26837155">I Need a Pick-Me-Up</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeraBAdler/pseuds/VeraBAdler'>VeraBAdler</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>October 2020 challenges [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Breakfast, Bunker Fic, Human Castiel, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 12:21:39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>621</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26837155</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeraBAdler/pseuds/VeraBAdler</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean really wants to be manhandled, man. Cas is just the man to handle it.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Castiel/Dean Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>October 2020 challenges [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947589</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>67</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Destiel Promptober 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>I Need a Pick-Me-Up</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Prompt 1: Fireman's Carry<br/>Prompt 2: Daydream</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It's happening again. Dean's got his breakfast in front of him. A nice breakfast it is, too -- pancakes and bacon, big mug of coffee on the side. It's been sitting there for ten minutes, and Dean hasn't so much as touched it yet. Because he's <i>distracted</i>.</p><p>The source of this distraction is his ex-angel best friend, who's currently sitting across from him at the kitchen table. Cas is peacefully reading a book, having finished <i>his</i> plate of pancakes like a normal person. He looks relaxed and comfortable. His hair is still mussed from sleep, and there's a faint line visible on his cheek where he'd had it pressed into the pillow all night. He's the epitome of a man in his home, safe and content.</p><p>But all Dean can think about is Cas's arms, the golden skin dusted with fine hair, visible thanks to the t-shirt he's wearing -- a shirt he's borrowing from Dean. Since Cas fell for good a couple weeks ago, he's been wearing whatever clothes he can scare up out of other people's laundry baskets, <i>and we really need to get him out to the red circle boutique and buy him some shirts of his own because he is so much thicker than I am oh my GOD look at his CHEST,</i> Dean thinks in a frenzy.</p><p>Dean feels himself flush all over as his brain explodes with memories: <i>Cas working the hand weights in the Bunker's gym the other day, biceps bulging, sweat matting his hair. Cas helping Dean move furniture around in his room last week, thighs straining his sweats as he squatted to lift the heavy industrial bed frame. Cas on a recent hunt, throwing a vamp up against a wall and holding it there with one arm while he reached to catch the machete Dean tossed him.</i></p><p>The memories drift into fantasies: <i>Cas pushing me up against the wall and kissing me stupid, pinning my arms above my head with one hand and having his way with me. Cas throwing me over his shoulder like a fireman and carrying me to the car after I sprain my ankle on a hunt, laying me out in the backseat and having his way with me. Tossing me around in bed, oh Jesus, fucking manhandling me, having his dirty fucking way with me and all I can do is just fucking take it, holy SHIT.</i></p><p>He must shift a little in his chair at this point, or maybe he makes an involuntary sound. At any rate, Cas looks up from his book and quirks an eyebrow. "Are you okay, Dean?" he asks in his rumbly morning voice. "What are you thinking about so hard over there?"</p><p>And Dean is still halfway in his dirty daydreams, and still halfway asleep since he hasn't had any of his coffee yet, and for whatever messed-up combination of reasons Dean actually answers him. All the naughty scenarios he'd been spinning in his semi-conscious brain pour out of his mouth and land in his untouched pile of pancakes.</p><p>After he's done talking, there's a silence between them. It only lasts a few seconds, but Dean dies eleven times in the space of it. He's still flailing around inside his head, trying to think of anything he can say to rescue the situation, when Cas stands up abruptly. The chair he was sitting in tips back onto the kitchen floor with a crash. He courses around the table and grabs Dean's hand, pulling him to his feet.</p><p>"Whuh-?" Dean asks, in a stunning display of eloquence. He clears his throat and tries again as Cas tugs him down the hall. "What're you doin'?"</p><p>"I'm making your dreams come true, Dean," Cas growls.</p><p>
  <i>Awesome.</i>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Rebloggable link for this fic on tumblr is <a href="https://blessyourhondahurley.tumblr.com/post/631145613935919104/i-need-a-pick-me-up">here</a>.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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